老翁訴女 The Old Man's Tale
行者聽見道：「這個獃根，這等胡說，可不諕了師父？等老孫再去看看。」他把棍藏在身邊，走上前，迎著怪物，叫聲：「老官兒，往那裡去？怎麼又走路，又念經？」那妖精錯認了定盤星，把孫大聖也當做個等閑的，遂答道：「長老啊，我老漢祖居此地，一生好善齋僧，看經念佛。命裡無兒，止生得一個小女，招了個女婿。今早送飯下田，想是遭逢虎口。老妻先來找尋，也不見回去。全然不知下落，老漢特來尋看。果然是傷殘他命，也沒奈何，將他骸骨收拾回去，安葬塋中。」行者听见道：「这个呆根，这等胡说，可不諕了师父？等老孙再去看看。」他把棍藏在身边，走上前，迎著怪物，叫声：「老官儿，往那里去？怎么又走路，又念经？」那妖精错认了定盘星，把孙大圣也当做个等闲的，遂答道：「长老啊，我老汉祖居此地，一生好善斋僧，看经念佛。命里无儿，止生得一个小女，招了个女婿。今早送饭下田，想是遭逢虎口。老妻先来找寻，也不见回去。全然不知下落，老汉特来寻看。果然是伤残他命，也没奈何，将他骸骨收拾回去，安葬茔中。」
逐句解 Line by line
Overhearing this, Pilgrim said, "That blockhead — talking such rubbish, won't he frighten the Master?
獃根 (dāi gēn) "blockhead, dolt." 可不諕了師父 (kě bù xià le shī fu) "won't [it] scare the Master" — 諕 (xià) "to frighten," the 不 (bú) taking rising-tone sandhi before it. Wukong, overhearing Bajie's doom-mongering, worries first for the effect on the elder — his concern for Tripitaka undimmed by all the abuse.
"Let old Sun go and take another look."
再去看看 (zài qù kàn kan) "go and look once more." The third reconnaissance — Wukong, bound by his promise not to strike, goes first to verify, not to attack.
He hid the cudgel by his side, went forward, and facing the monster called out: "Old sir — where are you off to?
把棍藏在身邊 (bǎ gùn cáng zài shēn biān) "hid the cudgel at his side," 藏 (cáng) "to conceal." 迎著 (yíng zhe) "facing," 著 (zhe). 老官兒 (lǎo guān er) "old sir," the suffix 兒 (er). 往那裡去 (wǎng nǎ lǐ qù) "where are you going," 那裡 (nǎ lǐ) interrogative. Wukong conceals his weapon and dissembles courtesy — mindful of the fillet, he probes before striking.
"How is it you're walking the road, and reciting sutras too?"
又走路，又念經 "both walking and chanting." Wukong's needling question — an old man too frail to walk, yet chanting on the move — quietly flags the disguise's implausibility, as he did with the old woman's impossible age.
The fiend, misreading its gauge and taking the Great Sage for some ordinary creature, answered: "Reverend, this old man's family has lived here for generations, all my life delighting in good works, feeding monks, reading scriptures and reciting the Buddha's name.
那妖精 (nà yāo jīng) "that fiend," 那 (nà). 錯認了定盤星 (cuò rèn le dìng pán xīng) "misread the fixed star of the steelyard," i.e. misjudged, took a wrong measure. 當做個等閑的 (dàng zuò ge děng xián de) "treated [him] as someone ordinary," 當 (dàng) "to regard as." 長老 (zhǎng lǎo) "reverend," 長 (zhǎng); 佛 (Fó) (念佛). The demon fatally underestimates Wukong, taking him for a dupe like the rest.
"Fated to have no son, I got but one small daughter, and took in a son-in-law.
命裡無兒 (mìng lǐ wú ér) "fated to be without a child/son," the noun 兒 (ér). 止生得一個小女 (zhǐ shēng de yí ge xiǎo nǚ) "had only one little daughter," the complement 得 (de). The old man's tale exactly matches the maiden's and the old woman's, sealing the fabricated family.
"This morning she took food down to the fields — set upon, I fear, by some tiger's maw.
送飯下田 (sòng fàn xià tián) "took food down to the fields." 遭逢虎口 (zāo féng hǔ kǒu) "met with a tiger's jaws," i.e. came to a violent end. The demon accounts for the vanished "daughter" — the first corpse — with a plausible mountain hazard.
"My old wife went first to look for her, and hasn't come back either.
老妻先來找尋 (lǎo qī xiān lái zhǎo xún) "the old wife came first to search." 不見回去 (bú jiàn huí qù) "has not returned." And so the demon accounts for the vanished "mother" — the second corpse — weaving both prior disguises into one grief.
"With no trace of either of them, this old man has come out on purpose to look.
全然不知下落 (quán rán bù zhī xià luò) "no idea at all of their whereabouts." 老漢特來尋看 (lǎo hàn tè lái xún kàn) "this old man came specially to search." The tale is complete and internally consistent — a family thrice bereaved, seeking its lost.
"If it's true that their lives were cut short, there's no help for it — I'll gather up their bones and carry them home to be buried in the family plot."
傷殘他命 (shāng cán tā mìng) "their lives cut short." 將他骸骨收拾回去 (jiāng tā hái gǔ shōu shí huí qù) "gather up their bones and take them back," 將 (jiāng). 安葬塋中 (ān zàng yíng zhōng) "bury in the grave-plot," 中 (zhōng). The closing note of resigned grief — an old man come to collect his dead for burial — is the disguise's final, affecting touch.
The old man's tale is the demon's most elaborate fiction, and its cleverest, for it retroactively binds the two prior disguises into a single coherent grief: a daughter taken by a "tiger," a wife lost searching for her, an aged father come to gather their bones. Every earlier "killing" is folded into a plausible domestic tragedy — the mountain hazard, the anxious search, the resigned burial. It is a small masterpiece of narrative cover.
Its fatal flaw is hubris. The demon 錯認了定盤星, "misread its gauge," taking the Great Sage for 個等閑的, an ordinary dupe like the master it has thrice deceived. Having succeeded so completely with Tripitaka, it assumes Wukong can be lulled by the same pious grief — the one being on the mountain whom no disguise has ever fooled.
Wukong, for his part, plays the scene with wary craft: he hides his cudgel, feigns courtesy, and needles at the tale's seams (an old man too frail to walk, chanting on the move), just as he had exposed the old woman's impossible age. Bound by his promise and the threat of the spell, he probes before he strikes — but the reader knows the probing is a formality, and the third blow is coming.